


What The Curtains Are Called

by SpiralSpace



Category: Oxenfree
Genre: Gen, Suicide mention, death mention, ending supplemental, illness mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiralSpace/pseuds/SpiralSpace
Summary: On eternity, and the side effects thereof.





	What The Curtains Are Called

“Okay, so there’s eighty eight of us so far, right?” Glasses Alex crafted a chalkboard out of void. Several small, white handprints appeared on it instantly. She scowled, and wiped them off with her sleeve. They did not reappear. She scratched the number on the board. “And of those,” she continued, “thirty seven experienced a significant amount of déjà vu during their loop. Let’s assume that every non memory-fucked Alex, aside from ALEX, First Of Her Name, comes from a timeline which follows after a timeline in which Alex doesn’t come to the island, and let’s furthermore assume that attempts to warn Alex keep her away from the island ninety nine point nine percent of the time. That gives us thirty seven Alexes escaped via intervention, and… thirteen spontaneous escaped Alexes. If, thirteen versus thirty seven, wow that’s a nice calculation, twenty six percent of Alexes escape on a blank slate run, that would suggest there’s probably about four? extra Alexes that we don’t know about because they’re the second to escape in a row. Oh wait that works for the intervention Alexes too, so thirteen Alexes, plus another three from three-in-a-rows and maybe a four-in-a-row. Which brings us up to!” Her chalk moved faster as she worked towards her conclusion. “Fifty plus thirteen plus four plus three plus one, over eighty eight minus one plus the sum of itself, thaaaaaaat’s…. about 0.486. So fourty nine percent! Almost one out of every two Alexes manage to dodge this shithole. Which isn’t that bad, really?"

“I dunno, some of that math seems pretty suspect,” No-Piercings Alex said. “It looks like you literally just pulled it out of your ass. Like, our relationship with causality is deeply fucked; how confident are we that there’s actually an order to this? Maybe all the Alexes happened in parallel and the memory screw just happens sometimes, it doesn’t have to be a, a sequence thing. Maybe we just show up here in whatever dang order the void feels like! No offense Alex Prime.” ALEX, First Of Her Name grunted apathetically.

“So firstly!” Glasses Alex said. “Where else was I supposed to pull numbers from, the coat pile???? We’re in the middle of an endless black abyss and I used the data I had. And secondly, that’s why I made the chalkboard so big! So you could chip in your own theories.”

“And why would I want to do that?” No-Piercings Alex asked tiredly.

Glasses Alex gestured in exasperation. “Because it’s fun? Because it’s SOMETHING TO DO???”

“Yeah, no way. I’m going to take a nap.” No-Piercings Alex flopped down on the coat pile. The coat pile was real, unlike Glasses Alex’s glasses (she hadn’t been wearing them when she first dropped in). The pile had started when it was just the three of them, ALEX, First Of Her Name, Other Alex and Yet Another Alex. Yet Another Alex had realized she wasn’t actually cold and taken hers off, which had caused the other two to realize they weren’t cold either, which had in turn led to all of them realizing they had no idea whose coat was whose (“No, mine has that exact same chili stain. You’re not special.”). After that, it was just normal that Alexes put their heavy red jackets aside after a while, Jacket-On Alex excepted, so the pile grew and grew as their numbers did. It had become the focal point of their purgatorial existence. They kept the radio, though.

“Maybe all of us make it out, you know?” Five Thirty Alex said. “Like, what happens after we get looped back? Do we just drop dead on the street? Do we disappear? Maybe the real Alex is still out there, living her life, and we’re just the copy.”

“I know what you mean,” Yet Another Alex said. “It feels… unreal when you’re back out there. Or that’s not right, it feels like it’s real but it didn’t happen to you. Like it was right in front of you and you saw it all and then you took a step forward and your nose hit the glass. And then you’re back here’s and it feels like it’s just been a minute since you squared down with the ghosts, right?” Some of the others nodded.

“ _It’s square up_ ,” somebody else whispered.

Five Thirty Alex joined No-Piercings Alex on the coat pile. “Maybe that’s why you get to see some of it, but not all of it. Because you may not be the real Alex, but you’re the same person at first, you’re close enough, until you’re not. And she’s the real Alex, she gets priority, and we’re just waves or whatever so we get booted back here.”

“What I want to know,” Jacket On Alex declared, “is what about, what about the Alexes who change something. Like they make it so Michael was alive or they end up getting featured on a bunch of news reports for doing prank radio distress calls or whatever.” She gestured emphatically at the collected totality of Alex. “But every Alex here is an Alex who lost Michael, even after they changed things. And it doesn’t seem like any of you just went around acting like Michael didn’t exist for that year before the island, so who the fuck was that Alex? Does she get erased? Does she make it out? What’s her deal?”

“What’s it like, having Michael back?” Terminally Ill Alex asked quietly. “After the island, I mean.”

Lifeguard Alex spoke up. “It’s like… do you guys remember the first time we stole a Mars bar from the corner store? When we were like seven or whatever?”

“Yeah.”  
“Yes.”  
“Yep.”  
“Nope,” Glasses Alex said.

“Okay, then. Well, we got it out of the store, and we bit into it, and we thought it was going to taste bad. Cause we stole it, right? Kid logic. But it didn’t, it tasted good, because we didn’t actually feel bad about it, but it still tasted stolen. It was just like it was a different kind of Mars bar or something. Having Michael back is great, it was the best. But you always feel like he isn’t yours, like you know he doesn’t belong to you. So losing him the second time only hurts like ninety percent as much.” The other members of the lifeguard club nodded. Everybody quieted for a while.

“So riddle me this,” Technically It’s Teal Alex said. “Fuck, Marry Kill; Nona, Ren and Clarissa.”

Sixty seven of the assembled eighty eight Alexes groaned.

“Man, what was Ren thinking? That was like the most boring three choices. In what universe were we ever going to answer anything other than Nona Ren Clarissa?”

“Whaaaat? You mean Ren Nona Clarissa, right?”  
“You make two of the choices girls and then it’s a gay thing, that’s the whole point of fuck marry kill. Who cares who gets put where?”  
“Do I even know you guys!? It’s Nona Clarissa Ren, obviously!”

“Okay, okay,” Technically It’s Teal Alex held up her hands placatingly. “I’ve heard your feedback and taken it under consideration. How about Fuck Marry Kill; Alex, Alex aaaaaaaaaaaaand…. Alex.”

Likes Black Licorice Alex snickered. “Well, I’m definitely killing Alex. God knows she’s earned a change in scenery.”

“And I’m totally down with marrying Alex. We have a special connection, or whatever? It’s like I know exactly what she’s thinking sometimes.”

“And then I guess that means I’m fucking Alex. Please don’t get the wrong idea, it’s just how things worked out.”

“Oh yeah Alex, don’t worry I totally understand.”

“Hey but if we -could- die for real, how do we even know that we’d end up somewhere better than here, though? Maybe the actual afterlife is worse.”

“There isn’t an actual afterlife. No way there’s anything up there looking down here and feeling any sort of way about anything. If there was it wouldn’t have happened, instead we’d be somewhere that wasn’t bullshit. And if you ask me, thinking that some big man in the sky did this is why our ghost ‘friends’ are so fucked up about it! If we weren’t here, we wouldn’t exist. It’s that simple.”

“Guys, guys,” Two Brownie Alex said placatingly, “we’ve already been over this, and I’m pretty sure we all agreed that none of us know jack shit, right? Right???” But it was already too late.

The conversation fractured, and the cracks spread, exponentiated, more and more Alexes joining in with their own opinions, subconversations splitting off, butting against each other, noise growing, louder, and a cacophony.

“QUIET!” ALEX, First Of Her Name yelled. They quieted. They all knew the rules. A few couldn’t help glancing over towards the submarine in the distance, and towards the Sunken. It didn’t matter where you were, you could still hear it, at least a bit anyway. Always chittering, talking to itself? It was hard to tell. Alex shuddered.

“One. At. A. Time.” ALEX said, more calmly.

“You know, we’re probably going to be through another loop soon. So what do you think the next Alex’s thing is going to be?” Driver’s License Alex asked, trying to change the subject.

“We really need to lay off of the whole ‘having a thing’ thing. It’s kind of a bummer when you push people into it,” Two Brownie Alex said. “Please, guys, please promise me you’ll at least let this Alex FINISH BEING ALEX first. Please? Back in the day we actually gave people time to get tired of that.”

“What do you mean soon, anyway? There’s literally no time in here. Like, the hourglass is empty. Yeet.”

“I think there’s going to be a new Alex in…. eight or nine jokes.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re actually trying to use that to keep track of time. That shit will make you completely insane.”

“If that’s the thing you’re worried is going to drive me insane, then sister, I’ve got some baaaaaad news for you.”

For the eighty ninth time, the submarine exploded. Jonas’ body quivered, and then rose to its feet. He looked at the Alexes, and the pile of red coats, confused and at least a little afraid. His faded green jacket slid back and forth across his broad shoulders, but he seemed to decide to keep it on for the moment. He also held on to the radio.

“What the fuck,” Alex said.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who tried to follow Glasses Alex's math, it's wrong, so maybe don't. I did this to spite you, specifically.
> 
> If the speaker is not specified, they're an unintroduced, arbitrary Alex. If the speaker is specified as Alex, it's all Alexes.
> 
> I am fully convinced that Alex's greatest superpower is thinking she's the funniest thing since sliced bread.


End file.
